


the morning after the night before

by orphan_account



Series: adventures in spanking [2]
Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Aftercare, F/M, Kink Negotiation, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 07:34:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10962645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “Where do we go from here?” Tom asks me the next morning.





	the morning after the night before

“Where do we go from here?” Tom asks me the next morning.

We’re lounging in bed together. I stretch, arching my back like a cat and rubbing my bottom against the sheets. The pleasurable tingle that I felt after Tom spanked me is, unfortunately, long-gone. I only hope I can induce him to spank me again – and preferably sooner rather than later.

“Do you regret last night?” I’m cautious with my questions, not wanting to scare him off in case he can be persuaded to repeat the experience.

“No,” he says, the word drawn out, which indicates to me that he’s still hesitant about taking pleasure in my pain; pleasure that I whole-heartedly share. If only I could make him see. . .

“I want you to spank me again. What would it take for you to agree?” I say, bold as brass. My success with Tom last night has given me the confidence I need to make my desires known. “What if you set a limit, say, on how many strokes you gave me at any one time, or what implement you used? Would that be satisfactory?”

“Implement?” Tom appears startled. Oh dear, am I going too fast again? “You want me to use more than my hand?”

“We can always work up to that,” I assure him, “Although I wouldn’t say no to being whipped with your belt just now. I want something that will last longer than a spanking with your hand did.”

“My belt?” Tom’s parroting me, which can’t be a good sign. “Won’t that be rather painful?”

“Yeah, that’s kind of the point,” I say. “To remind me of how much I’m loved and cared for, every time I sit down.”

“Seems an odd way of showing it, to my mind,” Tom muses. I stay silent, letting him work through his inner turmoil. “How do you know so much?” he asks at last.

“I read. A lot,” I tell him. “In my teens and college years, I didn’t have a boyfriend to experiment with; no one to tell of my desires – spanking felt like a dirty, shameful secret that I had to keep to myself. So I turned to the internet, and became a consumer of spanking stories.

"It taught me a lot – about the different positions; about spanking itself, the various implements and levels of pain they inflicted. Not that there appeared to be much of a difference, at least to me; they all seemed to hurt. Regardless, I wanted to try it all.

“And now here you are: I’ve told you my secret and you haven’t rejected me or laughed, which was always my worst fear. On top of that, you gave me my very first spanking, and I loved it. So, can we _please_ try again?”

Tom smiles fondly at me and kisses my forehead. “I have some conditions,” he says.

“I’m listening.”

“Well, first, I have more of a question for you.” At my nod, he goes on, “What kind of spankings are you interested in – the fun, erotic kind, or a more punitive spanking?”

I pause to give serious consideration to his question. “I’ve never really thought to classify the kind of spankings that interest me,” I confess. “In the stories I read, the spankings were meant to be corrective yet had an undeniable eroticism to them. I want you to spank me so that it hurts – I mean, _really_ hurts – and leave marks. So as far as that goes, then yes, I want a punitive spanking.

“But unlike the stories I read, my spankings will be for fun and doled out in that same spirit. That said, I reserve the right to come to you and ask for a disciplinary spanking when I feel I’ve done something wrong. Or you can tell me when you think I’ve done something wrong and that I deserve a spanking. I promise to listen and submit to your correction. Is that fair?”

“I would think it’s only fair if our arrangement applies to both of us,” says Tom.

I hold my breath, hoping he’s not going to ask me to spank him. I’m only interested in being spanked; not in doing the spanking myself.

“But would I be correct in assuming that that doesn’t interest you?” he continues.

I nod, vigorously.

“Then, yes,” he says, “your proposal sounds fair.”

“And what about your conditions?” I ask.

“I’ve only got one: that I never spank you in anger. If you ask me for a spanking in the heat of a fight, I won’t do it. Under no circumstances will I ever raise my hand to you in anger. Is that clear?”

“Crystal,” I say, and give him a great big, smacking kiss. I kiss him again – softer, this time – and whisper against his lips, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he says, hugging me to his chest; I snuggle up close. “Now, then,” he says, pushing me away, but only slightly. “I believe you asked for another spanking. So get on over here!”

“Yes, sir!” I say, giving him a cheeky salute.

I settle myself across Tom’s lap, wiggling around until I’m in just the right position – both for my own comfort, and for Tom’s. While last night my spanking was over in a flash, this morning Tom chooses to take his time. He spends several minutes stroking my back and fondling my buttocks, occasionally lightly slapping them – nothing more than love taps, meant to heighten my anticipation of the spanking to come so that by the time he’s ready to start in earnest, my skin is tingling and I’m practically vibrating across his lap.

The first real blow, when it comes, takes me by surprise. There’s a loud clapping noise, then pain, and I gasp. Tom rubs my bottom where he spanked me and goes back to the light, playful slaps from before. He’s toying with me, I realize, drawing this out for our mutual pleasure. In this moment I’ve never loved him more. Tom spanks me again, this time on the opposite cheek, and once more I wish that my head swiveled like an owl’s so that I could see my bottom for myself.

Without warning Tom lands a number of blows on my upturned bottom in rapid-fire succession, catching me off guard. I yelp in surprise and buck across Tom’s lap. He stills me with a hand to the small of my back, and I settle. He spanks me once, twice more, and then returns to only lightly smacking my bottom.

My spanking continues in this manner – two hard smacks, one on each cheek; then a series of love taps; followed by a flurry of hard, punishing smacks – long enough that I lose all track of time. Just as I settle into the rhythm that Tom has set, he surprises me once more by turning his attention to the backs of my thighs. He doesn’t follow any pattern here; he spanks with abandon, focusing particularly on the juncture where my buttocks and thighs merge.

I’m in ecstatic agony; Tom is surpassing my wildest dreams and I never want him to stop. But stop he does, though just as I’m preparing to object he returns to spanking the meaty part of my buttocks with the same intensity as he attended to my thighs. When his hand at last stills, I can do nothing but lie boneless across his lap. I’m completely spent: in energy _and_ in tears. My face is flushed; no doubt as red as my bottom.

I feel Tom reach for something. There’s a click, and then he’s showing me a picture on his phone, “How’s that?” he asks, sounding almost proud.

Though my bottom throbs urgently, I no longer feel the need to cry, and so I rub the tears from my eyes to better see. Tom has taken a picture of my bottom, which is even redder than I had imagined, glowing brightly from the top of my cheeks all the way down to my thighs.

“Wonderful,” I whisper breathlessly. I could have sworn I wasn’t being too terribly vocal in my objections, and yet my throat feels parched, as if I’d yelled myself hoarse.

“All right, darling?” asks Tom, quick to pick up on my distress.

“Water,” I croak.

Tom shifts himself out from under me and races for the bathroom. I hear the tap running, and then he’s back, holding out the most beautiful glass of water that I’ve ever seen. I smile at him and, at his direction, sip slowly, being careful not to take in too much water at once.

“Something to remember for next time: have a glass of water at the ready,” I say. “Apparently being spanked is thirsty work.”

“As is doing the spanking,” says Tom, finishing off the glass. “I only wish I could have spanked you for longer. It’s grown on me, and you seemed to really be enjoying it.”

“I was,” I assure him, moving to prop myself up on my elbows. “I guess what we need is to find a paddle that works over the knee, so you can switch to that once you’ve worn out your hand on my bottom.”

“How do you feel?” asks Tom, gliding a hand down the length of my spine until he’s fondling my flaming buttocks.

“Never better,” I say, pushing up my bottom in a wordless invitation for Tom to take a more generous handful. He obliges, but gives me a playful smack for my impertinence. I yelp; he smiles, even as he soothes the hurt he just caused. “What about you?” I ask him. “Are you convinced yet?”

“You’ve made a convert of me, darling,” says Tom with a tender smile. “I’m happy to spank you anytime, anywhere. But before I do anything more to you, how about I rub some lotion into your bottom? I should have thought to do that last night, but we were both so tired. I think you could really use it now; there’s heat coming off you in waves.”

“Nah, I like it,” I say.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” I kiss him, smiling against his lips. “Thanks again for indulging me. I know this can’t be easy for you.”

“All I want is for you to be happy,” says Tom. “And if this does it for you, then I’m happy to oblige.”

“Still. . . thank you.”

Tom doesn’t say a word in reply, just crawls back onto the bed and takes me in his arms. His hands naturally gravitate to my buttocks; he takes a handful of each and pulls me on top of him. I gasp at the bruising grip he has on my bottom, then smirk; I know where this is going.


End file.
